Invisible God: The challenge of the Ascension

In the first chapter of Mark’s gospel, Jesus and his disciples go to Peter’s house, where they find Peter’s mother-in-law prostrated by a fever. Jesus takes her by the hand, banishing the fever, and so complete is the cure that the woman rises from her sickbed and takes up her household duties, offering hospitality to the visitors.  News of the cure quickly spreads, and before long “the whole city was gathered before the door.” Jesus wades into the crowd, and heals many of physical ailments and bedevilments.

In his paraphrase of Mark’s Gospel, Erasmus reflects on the story, commenting that while Christ, the Light of the World, was alive, the fellowship of the church was not numerous, “but after his death, a great multitude of people began to flow towards it from all quarters of the earth,” flocking to his community because of the evidence of Christ’s works — the most miraculous of which is the transformation of sinners. (After all, which is easier— to say truthfully “Your sins are discharged,” or “Rise up and walk”?).  Yet there is something that needs to be added to Erasmus’s comment (something I think he and George Fox would both approve).

The Jesus movement was profoundly shaken when Jesus was taken from their midst — first by his captivity and trial, then by his death, and then at the Ascension, when his human visage and presence were forever withdrawn, except in the memory of his friends and eyewitnesses. It is noteworthy that when the apostles met to find a replacement for Judas among the 12, they felt it was essential that one be chosen who had been with the movement from the beginning, and was a witness to the whole story of Jesus’ mission, death, and resurrection.

Now when they received the Holy Spirit (whether at the Pentecost event, or in the upper room directly from the risen Jesus, as in John’s gospel), these witnesses were fully confident that the Spirit that they experienced was the same Christ that they had know in and through Jesus.

Indeed, the two “versions” of the giving of the Spirit reinforce each other:  The small coterie of associates experienced the gift of the Comforter in intimate conversation with a Jesus whom they knew in three dimensions, so to speak (though his awesome transformation revealed other dimensions they had hardly guessed before, except at the Transfiguration).  When the Spirit descended some days later as if tongues of fire, they recognized it as a renewal and perhaps intensification of what they had experienced with Jesus already. Now, it was not only consolation, but also prophetic commission, and so began the flood of people towards the church.

But this was also a point of great vulnerability for the movement.  It reminds me of the time in the book of Judges (Ch. 2) when Joshua comes to the end of his life, and all his generation, and a new generation arose that had not witnessed the Exodus, the giving of the Law at Sinai, and the vivid presence of their God both in direct action, and through the words and works of his servants Moses and Joshua. Then this generation began to do evil in the sight of God, as the story tells, worshipping other gods, and following practices not sanctioned by the Law.

It is interesting to imagine yourself as a member of this new generation.  Your people have been settled in a fertile land*, and are learning its rhythms and natural characteristics.  No longer a wanderer, you can build a home, a farm and flock, and accumulate enough substance and stability that you can start a family.  You are surrounded by co-inhabiting peoples who know the land well, and whose rising generation are also interested in commerce, farming, and the arts of home-making. To love the land  is to feel its life, to feel its spiritual power, and the personifications of the forces alive in the land would have been cheering and perhaps compelling psychologically.   The intensity of daily work, of learning the land and its language, of finding a partner and starting a family — these good, homely, everyday matters must inevitably have been much more absorbing than a rigorous attention to the Covenant developed, forged, in fire and exile, danger and deliverance — but for you only known at second-hand.  In small steps or large, the Convenant memories were forgotten or rationalized into something that fit better with their reality.  New occasions, after all, teach new duties, right? **

Well, so: When Jesus was ascended, the embodiment of the Christ was the church, made up of living stones, each full of personality, and none as clear as Jesus, except when fully centered in His Spirit. When someone who walked with Jesus was discerning the guidance of a spirit they felt moving in them, they had a great reservoir of first-hand knowledge (tacit or explicit) with which to decide “That’s not the Holy Spirit of Jesus”  or “That’s Jesus!”   But there arose a new generation that did not have that experiential foundation to draw upon.   How easy to reinterpret the message that you had not yourself lived, but learned from the witnesses!  The invisible Christ, who for most people is not as vividly, insistently present as one’s parents, neighbors, companions, rulers, is for that very reason likely to be reinterpreted (re-remembered) in ways that make him/it less threatening or inconvenient.

For like any good teacher, Jesus could be very inconvenient.  As the physically present teacher, Jesus could exert personal influence both by physical acts (healing, praying, walking, eating, suffering), and by Truth-revealing dialectic.  He could ask questions, raise challenges, present thought-experiments, in ways that could open the door to new life.  His teaching and debating could be done gently or harshly, depending on the interlocutor before him.

He could say to Peter, “Get thee behind me, Satan!” because they were in a relationship of master-disciple, and the rebuke could shake Peter (for a while) out of complacency. So also when Jesus foretold Peter’s triple denial and his flight in fear from the power of the state; so also when he teased (or challenged) Peter and the others about their preparedness to drink the cup that Jesus was tasting fully, the potion of testing and suffering.  He exerted force to break through protective shells that cramped or prevented growth in the Light.

Yet with others he could be much gentler, though still relentless, as in his conversation with the woman at the well (John 4). Within the embrace of traditional religion, she had yet found plenty of freedom for her own independence from convention.  Jesus confronted her settled opinions, but gradually, and he let her reflect and draw her own conclusions about her condition. And his proclamation to her was not about promiscuity or willfulness, or irresponsibility in relationships (or whatever her multiple partners implied, about which Jesus made no diagnosis).  He spoke instead about worship and abundant life.

He asserted to her the real possibility (nay, the necessity) of a religion based on a living encounter with the Spirit of God, of which he was a witness and mediator. It is in that truth that authentic worship exists, in which the most acceptable offering is a broken and contrite heart (Ps. 51). Drinking from that fountain of life, the acts and beauties of tradition can be renewed, as you yourself are renewed.

Now, when Jesus has been translated upon his Ascension, and leaves his followers to live the truth he showed/taught them, guided in (along the path of) Truth by his spirit in their hearts and in their koinōnia, it becomes a lot easier for those followers to “recall” Christ in a way that tames him, that removes some of the prophetic edge, retires him to a figure of the past, encased in narrative and liturgy and muted — no. longer the insistent dialogue partner and teacher.  Of course, you can choose, or be drawn, to seek his more complete presence, urgent and mysterious, but if you don’t, absorbed by the vivid matters of daily life and imagination, you can drift unchallenged into compromise and lukewarmness, and it is only by grace or prophetic encounter that you can see how far you’ve drifted. In a cocoon of comfort and accommodation, what spirit do you allow yourself to hear?  What gods do you appeal to and rely upon in the course of daily life?

So while the Crucifixion was a great test for Jesus’ followers, and the Resurrection another, the Ascension is in some ways the long challenge, the one that we face through all our days, when God, , once so vividly present in Jesus’ life, words, and works, truly seems absconditus, hidden or withdrawn.

The calling is to find our way back to the true and living Spirit we have met with sometimes, not resting until we find the One that is as quick and challenging as Jesus-in-person, as brisk and shocking and alive as the streams now exuberantly bounding down the hills with the coming of spring.  The path is only to be found again, if it’s grown cold, by minding where warmth stirs in the heart — and in minding it, welcome the times when it brings you discomfort with yourself, whose truthfulness is sealed by the love that accompanies the nudge.

Then that Spirit which is recognizably that of the Logos, the disconcerting Wisdom of God, that Jesus manifested (and so have some of his friends then and since), will unfold the fulness of the gospel as it is being preached in and for  our lives and times.   You are ready, your hands are open to receive, and to become part of the invitation to wholeness that God extends to all folk.

*justified by a narrative that reminds one of the Doctrine of Discovery by means of which Europeans arrogated to themselves the lands and resources of the Western Hemisphere — a doctrine which I must say rests upon a false interpretation of God’s will, even though I am a beneficiary of that false teaching.

** just as there arose in Egypt a generation that knew not Joseph, and whose reinterpretation of the Hebrew presence there transformed hospitality into captivity.

Case Study #9: John Griffith on his preparation for service

John Griffith (1713-1776) was born in Wales, emigrated to Philadelphia as a young man, and joined Friends there. In middle age, he returned to travel extensively in the ministry for two years, after a return to Pennsylvania he removed to England where he married & dwelt the rest of his life, making one religous visit to America during that time.

Griffith describes how he gradually became aware that he might be called to serve in the ministry, but this was after some time of trial (it is not clear from his Journal how long this period was — some months, at least). This part of his journey was formative for his later life and practice.

The decisive process began when he was about 19 years old. He had been among Friends for some time,and kept consistent with such outward testimonies as the plain speech, and as he writes,

I retained much love and regard for those I thought truly religious; especially weighty substantial ministers of the everlasting gospel; and I believe had a better sense of their spirits and labours, than some of my companions had, and therefore was afraid to despite or speak contemptibly of such, as some of my associates did.

But as we see in other journals, his practice at this point was principally based on this unformed sense of respect, rather than of any more searching encounter with the Spirit of the Lord. He had a feeling that in these meetings, these experienced Friends were showing him something that moved him, but there was no more substantive inward process.

I did.. in a customary way, attend first-day meetings, and most[ly] had the liberty of going on other days of the week, when any ministers from distant parts cam to visit Abington meeting… but alas! It was to littie or no good purpose, as the labour bestowed on me, by ministry or otherwise, was like water spilt upon a stone, that soon runs off again without any entrance, I being indeed for some time like the heath in the desart, not knowing the good when it came; and if at any time the seed of God’s kingdom fell upon my heart, it was soon taken away, and I presently lost the savour thereof.

But then a crisis occurred. One evening, he was one of a merry company of friends who spent their time together in frothy vain conversation, and foolish rude actions… I suppose I was as a ring leader; he mentions elsewere that though he generally kept to the truth, he didn’t see any harm in embellishing a story for fun. That night at home, however, he felt some sharp lashes of conscience.. a thoughtfulness took hold of my mind, that we had not a being in this world for such a purpose. Amidst these meditations, he learned that one of his “jolly companions” from the party was that night taken violently ill. Griffith hurried to stay by his friend’s bedside during the crisis, which all expected to end in death. Although things soon turned out well, Griffith was deeply struck by the realization that life is short and may end at any time — and thus we must prize the time we have.

He then entered into a familiar cycle of advance and regression, seeking to ive more deeply and piously, and often failing. He came to see that one could practice and profess a kind of consistent life, not unlike the life of faithfulness, but that the essential ingredient necessary was a clear sense of God’s spirit present and at work as director and guide. This he encountered fitfully, but it was often inaccessible, in a way that frustrated and discouraged him, until he began to see that coming to an insight, however true and hopeful, was not the same as having the ability to live it.

The times of darkness or bereavement from the life of God were, he came to feel, a sort of growing point, if he could set aside his expectations and his own preferences, and stay in the learner’s mind. He writes that when he
had no distinct knowledge…what to do, that it was my indispensible duty to stand still, and wait for my unerring guide; if at those times, self would arise and be uneasy, it must be brought to the cross, there to be slain. By such experience, I found I was nothing, and that God was all things necessary for soul and body; that if I was brought into a state of perfect reconciliation with him, I must know all things new. This realization served as a foundation for a more consistent, confirmed state of mind and spirit — and, you might say, a refuge to which he might retreat at times

I have recounted this narrative, which is similar to many others to be found in Quaker writings, because it sets the pattern so effectively for the emergence and practice of the gift of ministry that Griffith began to suspect was in prospect, however improbable that might appear — here he was at sea and just learning to navigate, and yet he could imagine being a pilot for others? Yet his narrative makes clear that, in his experience of seeking, losing and finding direction and right confidence as a disciple, he was learning that God was faithful and could work change in the otherwise unpromising John Griffith. His experience of the inward work of Christ in himself — however unfinished! — enabled him to see that it was a path that others can come to, and that “instruments” such as the ministry could provide pointers and encouragement (coaching, if you will) as they sought their way onto the path of the Light.

So here it is good to stop and recall Wiliam Penn’s words (from the Rise and progress):

oh! feel life in your ministry—let life be your commission, your well-spring and treasury on all such occasions; else you well know, there can be no begetting to God, since nothing can quicken or make people alive to God, but the life of God; and it must be a ministry in and from life, that enlivens any people to God. 

To return to young John Griffith: He is careful to distinguish preparation from the order to act. Once your eye towards ministry is opened, you can feel the urge to serve, and materials being gathered and considered for use (see John Conran’s experience recounted in Case Study #8), but that is not the same as learning when and where you are to be of use. Gaining experience in his search, Griffith also gained a clearer understanding of the role and purposes of the gospel ministry in God’s economy (the ordering of the divine community in creation). Like many others, the prospect seemed daunting and his own qualifications inadequate. He had to recall the lesson of spiritual impoverishment, and learn to trust the Lord’s requirings (which are also the source of empowerment to service) before he could get past his reticence.

With this view of the integral relationship between seeking, finding, and proclamation or teaching, I will leave this piece with John’s account of his arrival at the field of service, and his passage through the gate of fear and false modesty. Another case study will explore the next stage in his journey, but in what follows, see how his prior seeking was in some ways recapitulated in his awakening and qualification to accept a calling to gospel ministry:

About this time, I had had a distant view of being called into the work of the ministry; my mind being at times wonderfully overshadowed with the universal love of God, in the glorious gospel of his Son, to mankind, to that degree that I thought I could, in the strength thereof, give up to spend and be spent for the gathering of souls to him, the great Shepherd of Israel; and that I could life up my voice like a trumpet to awaken the inhabitants of the earth. But I found that this was only by way of preparation for this important work, and that I had not yet received a commission to engage therein.

A fear was upon my mind, and care, lest I should presume to enter upon this solemn undertaking without a right Call; it appearing to me exceeding dangerous to speak in the name of the Lord, without a clear evidence in the mind, that  he required it of me; which I then fully believed he would in his own time, which was to wait for.

From this time, until I was really called into the work, I frequently had, but especially in religious meetings,  openings of scripture-passages, with lively operations of the divine power in my mind; and sometimes with so much energy, that I have been almost ready to offer  what I had upon my mind, to others. But  as, through an holy awe which dwelt upon my heart, I endeavoured to try my offering in the unerring balance of the sanctuary,  I found it was too light to be offered, and was thankful to the Lord for his merciful preservation, in that I had been enabled to  avoid offering the sacrifice of fools.

But when the time really came that it was divinely required of me, the evidence was so indisputably clear, that there was not the least room to doubt; yet, through fear  and human frailty, I put it off, and did not give way thereunto. But oh! how was I condemned in myself ! The divine sweetness which had covered my mind in the meeting was withdrawn, and I left in a  very poor diseonsolate state, wherein I was ready to beg forgiveness, and to covenant with the Lord, that if he would be pleased to favour me again in like manner, I would give up to his requiring.

At the next first-day meeting, the Heavenly power overshadowed me in a wonderful manner, in which it was required of me to kneel down in supplication to the Lord in a few words : I gave way thereunto, in the dread of his power, with fear and trembling. After which, oh, how my soul was filled with peace and joy in the Holy Ghost!  I could then sing, and make sweet melody in my heart to the Lord.

Seeking and finding, chicken and egg

Two people stand by the window on a winter afternoon, watching the birds coming to the feeders. Though the same birds are dining and negotiating and squabbling, each person sees something very different.
Observer #1 has in truth spent little time watching birds, though they are glad enough that birds are around; they are pro-bird, but bird-ignorant. Consequently, Observer #1 sees large and small, bright and dark, red and blue and grey and brown; and there is pleasure in seeing the lilvely activity.
Observer #2, by contrast, is a habitual observer of birds. This does not only mean that Obs#2 can recognize and name different species of birds (Oh, look! a Short-necked Wrassler! And a Lesser Spotted Throstle-twit!!). It means that Obs#2 has some idea of what might be out there, in this place, and at this time; knows that there will probably be both males and females each according to its kind, but that social relations are different in winter than in Nesting Time; that there are different individuals that may be discernible with enough attention and that over time, personalities will emerge.
These and other expectations will sharpen the eyes of Obs#2, and enable them to place this time spent watching these birds at this feeder into stories, providing meanings and delights not available to Obs#1.

This scenario came to mind as my morning reading brought an unexpected juxtaposition, which I wanted to share with you.

Since I am mostly retired, I have more time at my command; and since most mornings I can’t sleep past 4 a.m., I have some really free time.. So it’s my current practice to read a chapter in the Hebrew scriptures (“Old Testament,” currently in Numbers), a chapter in the  Greek scriptures (“New Testament,” currently Matthew) and then something else, which varies according to whim, leading, or design. Right now, the Something Else is Origen’s Contra Celsum (Against Celsus).

So I happened to read Matthew 23:39:

For I say to you, you won’t see me henceforth until you can say “Blessed is the one coming in the name of the Lord.”

Reading this, I stopped for a while, feeling that I had come to my morning’s meditatio; but I only got a little way along until I turned to my “something else.”   As it happened,  Origen (C.C. II §§65-67) is arguing with well-informed Pagan critic of Christianity, one Celsus.  Celsus has spoken scornfully about the stories of Jesus’ appearances post-resurrection, arguing that if he’d really wanted to gobsmack his enemies, he should have appeared to Pilate or Herod or Caiaphas, rather than to his lowly and credulous followers.

But Origen all along has been arguing that Celsus just has not understood the nature of Jesus’ messiahship.  He is not coming as a conquering hero, who exacts obedience by overwhelming force (even if only the force of personality or numinosity), and thus by a wave of the hand banishes sin and oppression at once and everywhere.  Christ comes as servant, as transformer of hearts — since otherwise, human freedom means nothing, and “allegiance” or even adoration is meaningless and will not endure the “burden and heat of the day.”  To erase sin in this way is to change what it is that humans are, rejecting the Creator’s design.

Origen then points out that in each of Jesus’ appearances after the resurrection, people do not at first recognize him.  This is even true of Mary Magdalene in the garden on Easter morning — but hearing his voice, she instantly recognizes her friend.  On the other hand, Kleopas and his companion do not recognize Jesus all the way along the road to Emmaus, and it is only until he sups with them and gives thanks for the bread that they recognize him, whom they had expected to stir up a revolution and overthrow the Establishment, but instead had been crucified, died, and was buried.  Still, they knew enough of their teacher that they, too, came to recognize his voice in thanksgiving.

But Origen goes further, and says that the risen Christ would not in any case be visible to the Powers that be, and those who see through their eyes, because all they were able to see was a wandering wonder-worker (or trouble-maker) – fascinating or contemptible or exciting, according to the hopes of your heart.  But they could not see the truth of him, even when he was healing the afflicted and teaching in the Temple  or along the roads.  So what they could see of him — the outward body — had died, and so he was invisible.   Only those who were looking for the truth, and had some inkling of what to look for, were able to see him, to accept his table fellowship, and receive the breath of his Spirit.

 For I say to you, you won’t see me henceforth until you can say “Blessed is the one coming in the name of the Lord.”